Judgemental
by Simlead
Summary: 'It's the Christmas Ball for the Met - she never liked those silly functions. But she guesses she'll have to put up with it because he has to, and he's in much more limelight. Calm and cool is the plan - until something goes terribly wrong, and your little secret gets out the wrong way. People can be very judgemental...' Rated T for the nature of the show and one or two words.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! This was something I wrote a long time ago and I decided to reformat it and upload it. It's a tiny bit shorter than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway. It's a Strickland/Sandra fic placed somewhere in the ninth season and has spoilers for parts of that and might have spoilers for things before it. So, please don't read if you don't want to see them. :) It might be OOC in places, but that's for a reason or due to my writing slip-ups a year or two ago.**

**Sadly, nothing belongs to me except the plot, my plot bunnies, and any OCs. Enjoy!**

* * *

Overdone.

Posh.

There were many words for it, but as Sandra Pullman stood before the full-length mirror, she knew a word wasn't even _required _here. Sighing, she ran a hand over the soft chiffon that fell around her.

"Something wrong?" the voice coming from the door brought a secret smile to her face - as did the man leaning in the doorway. A long time ago, she would've cringed at his very presence, but now he brought that extra light to her day. The boys were starting to notice. In Gerry's words;

"You're not usually this cheery, Guv."

Two strong, slim arms around her waist pulled her from her thoughts. Their owner brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes and offered her a small smile.

"No, I just... It looks okay, doesn't it?" Sandra asked, looking her outfit over with uncertainty.

"Sandra, it looks more than okay. Stop worrying," Robert Strickland whispered, his lips brushing briefly against her ear. He stepped away, allowing his hands to linger around her for only a moment. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

"I..." she began, as she turned to see him, "I'm ready."

A smile spread across his lips, and pride and affection blossomed inside of him. Sandra (almost) always put on the tough guy act - but not around him. At first, it'd been strange seeing her weak, fragile side, but it grew on him, spreading through his heart like a fatal disease. Her cheeky ways, her piercing crystal blue eyes, and her shining blond hair were almost the only things he thought about now. They were all his.

The door crept open, and a man peeked inside.

"It's begun," he intoned, before leaving, just as quickly as he came. Sandra smoothed the soft, peach skirt layers and slid her hand into Strickland's. Forgetting completely about fixing his tie, his gaze landed on her.

"Ready?" she croaked out. Her throat was dry from anxiety and nervousness, but it would've happened anyway; what was it with Police and speeches? Someone had it in for her. Strickland gave a slight nod and squeezed her hand. Something others would take an entire five minutes to explain, could be conveyed in seconds with them. They were in it together.

* * *

Except, it was pretty difficult to stick to that statement as the two stepped through the doors to the ballroom, because all Sandra wanted to do was run and hide. But that'd be missing the point. Both were tired of lying, tired of narrowly evading the stigma of worker-boss relationships. No, this time she wouldn't hide in someone's shoulder (or even dislocate a few _to_ hide). Strickland, on the other hand, stared at his fellow police officers as they chatted and drunk from tall glasses. Few of them were female, and even fewer had retained their humanity in their attempts to climb the ranks.

Sandra's hand gently guided him over to the bar, to which he happily followed her. They'd talked about it - he remembered the conversation clearly.

_"So, we just go up and...say it?" he had asked, hand running through her hair._

_"No, of course not! I'm not stupid," she spluttered. He almost jumped back in surprise, although he really should've been expecting it. She had such a powerful temper, after all. His hand settled back in its previous position and resumed slow, cautious movements._

_"Sorry, I know you're not. What were you thinking, then?"_

_"We'll tell the boys first. Or they'll..."_

_"They'll what...?"_

_"Something."_

_He chuckled._

They were going to inform Gerry, Brian, Steve, and Jack (who Brian had somehow managed to 'contact'), then they'd announce it in front of the whole attending police force...in a civilized way. Their families could wait, which he was pretty sure was what Sandra thought too. She certainly wasn't looking forward to confronting a hall full of people who spent their lives arresting people, much less her mother and half-brother.

"Sandra!" Jack's face stretched into a smile as he caught her eyes, as he strode towards her. She quickly pulled her hand away from Strickland's, bringing a pang of guilt to her heart - but it had to be done.

"Jack," she beamed, and pulled him into a tight hug. God, she'd missed him. When he pulled back, he nodded to her 'secret lover' and acknowledged him only with a mutter of,

"Hello, Sir," which Gerry, Brian, and Steve repeated (in their own ways).

"Here you go, Guv. Nice white wine," he smiled and handed her a pristine glass. Passing her purse over to her other hand as she perched on one of the stools, in a sort of juggling act, she took the wine with a grateful nod. "Something up?"

"Don't be daft. Why would anything be wrong?" she scowled. Gerry leaned towards her so he could whisper in her ear, unaware of the irrational jealousy that flared up inside Strickland.

"Because you're usually drinking that stuff in buckets by now - and Slimeball Strickland's on your tail," Gerry reasoned. Although, for once, bucket-drinking alcohol wasn't so appealing, and having _him_ follow her didn't seem bad at all.

Lost in those thoughts, she didn't notice that he'd returned to his previous position.

"Guv?" his words pulled her from her mind and back into reality. She placed the wine glass on the bar beside her and glanced at Strickland.

"I...have something to tell you," she spoke quietly, but the way she did it told the four boys sat at the bar with her that this wasn't 'just another make up disaster'. Hearing footsteps behind her, she knew _he_ was here to back her up. Her hand slipped into his. "I've found someone."

"Sandra! That's great, who's the lucky..." Jack trailed off as he (and three other shocked pensioners) registered the symbolism of the hand-holding. A small smile crept onto her lips and she looked away, making brief eye contact with Strickland. His eyes gave away very little, but she could predict the war he was waging inside - a war of his own conflict (an unprecedented fear of not being accepted) and hers, should he comfort her, or just surreptitiously reassure her.

"I'm really happy for you two, how about another round of drinks, on me?" Steve spoke out, breaking their little silence like a knife slicing through butter. Gerry immediately snatched up the excuse to push it to the corners of his mind and shoved his glass over to the other side of the bar.

"Same again, mate," he grunted. Sandra turned away from her four colleagues and took a sip of the white wine she'd neglected considerably already. Now it seemed a little more appealing.

"Come on," Strickland whispered in her ear, his voice low. His finger closed around one of her wrists and she obediently picked up the glass, following him to a table booth in the corner of the room.

Hidden from sight, she collapsed onto the soft velvet seating with a depressed sigh. He sat beside her and pulled her towards him, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Cheer up, Sandra, it didn't go that bad," he soothed, as he reached out to stroke her hair. She brushed the hand away and sighed again.

"It did," was her only response.

"They'll get used to us, I can see it," he replied, attempting again to place a hand on her hair, this time succeeding, fingers tangled among the pale blonde strands.

"Stop seeing things that aren't there-you know bloody well what they think of us," she hissed. He gave up - she'd convinced herself, and had almost started to convince him.

Before he could think of a tactful reply, the room became relatively silent (compared to the previous ruckus). A cheerful voice announced that the speeches were about to begin, and that the first speaker was some guy from the Murder Squad.

_What if that was me... First speaker up... That promotion... _Sandra thought. She hadn't, for a moment, regretted her decision to deny promotion after promotion to stay in UCOS, but she still wondered what it would've been like if she'd chosen differently. Just like she wondered what it would be like after she pulled this..._stunt_.

And the time for that 'stunt' came all too soon, as those thirteen fatal words were announced.

"And please welcome Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman and Deputy Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland!"

* * *

**A/N: How was it? Review if you want to let me know! They're a pleasure to get. I'll be putting up the next chapter very shortly because it's all already complete and stored away. Bye!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Right, I'm going to pre-apologize for the unbelievable shortness of this chapter. The entire fic was originally for a short-term project, with small chapters. :) I ****_do _****hope it's up to scratch. And, ****_of course_****, I ****_don't _****wish that I owned New Tricks. *sarcasm***

**And I want to thank the guest who pointed out how the system must have gone wacky. For some reason, I must have selected the wrong document. They're right next to each other on the list. :P Thanks for telling me, and here's the next chapter.**

* * *

Sandra turned slowly towards Strickland, almost begging him to not make her do this.

"You can do this," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. And then nudged her towards the stage, as he followed steadily behind her. It was as though she was on some kind of autopilot, Sandra pressed on up the stairs and onto the stage, while she tried to contain the rabid butterflies at the pit of her stomach. The clapping died down, and she turned to face the audience with Strickland stood beside her.

"Recently, the Unsolved Crime and Open Case Squad has taken on a new member - ex-detective Steve McAndrew," Sandra began, "who, with the help of ex-detective Gerry Standing, has opened a UCOS in Scotland, Glasgow. Positions have opened up for transfers."

"I would also like to make a personal announcement," Strickland continued, as the previous speakers looked at him in confusion (after all, they couldn't know what news he was going to break). "This may seem like a bombshell, but I'd like to announce my engagement to a wonderful woman. And she's in this very room," he smiled, 'awws' fluttering up from the crowds, "even though I know many of you won't approve - her name is Sandra Pullman."

Gasps rose from the crowd. Looks of disgust. A man waiting to announce the next speaker marched onto the stage and half-pried the microphone from Robert's hands.

"Th-thank you for that," he stuttered, bit his lip, and made a 'go on, off you go' sign with his hand. As Sandra and Strickland retreated down the side staircase, he began to introduce the next guest, and the two moved into their corner table, thankfully hidden from view.

"Well, that went wonderfully," Sandra mused.

"Oh, don't be like that," Strickland replied, with a look of defeat. "Let's just...go home."

* * *

The door slammed shut with a bang, failing to startle the flat's two occupants as they stormed inside. Seemingly unhesitating, Sandra charged ahead and dumped her bag on the sofa, before she turned on her heel to face Strickland.

"'Oh, Sandra, let's just tell them straight. I'll be a little bit of a shock at first, but they'll recover soon'. Wonderful idea, Robert, just wonderful," she spat.

"Don't blame me! What were you doing when I was up there losing it? Because, wherever you were, you weren't next to me!" he retorted.

"I was exactly where I should've been. At least I wasn't the idiot making it look all sunshine and daisies," and then silence fell over them again. It remained for moments... Minutes... Hours, even.

"Look, Sandra, I don't want us to fight like this."

"And you think I do? I'm going to bed, see you later," and, with that, she swept past him and towards the bedroom.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm honestly not sure about this fic. I know it's been ages since I completed it but that's exactly why I'm uncertain. My writing style was similar then but I can't guarantee it was as good as it is. And the fic itself just feels...different...to me. :/ Opinions?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again! :) Sadly, another short chapter. On the plus side, it's actually here. ^_^ I _think_ I'm supposed to say I don't own New Tricks... But I seriously need Breakfast, so my brain's fried. :P**

* * *

Sandra stirred in her bed, mind and body aching from the previous evening. She turned over and realized that she was alone - just as she was when she fell asleep. Like it had always been when she was single, so why was it so surprising? Shaking the thoughts away, she pushed herself up and blindly threw on some clothes. Nothing that took too much effort. Nothing happy. The journey to work was a short, silent one by taxi.

The corridors leading up to the UCOS office were empty and grey, but nothing any duller than usual. The occasional officer walked past, piles of paperwork and other luggage in hand. Robert Strickland didn't really care about those things - no briefcase could be heavier than the weight on his shoulders. Mind far away, he bumped into someone, apologizing profusely and stumbling over his words. He laid a hand on their shoulder in a show of sincerity when he noticed who the shoulder belonged to.

"Robert," Sandra muttered, and simply shrugged away his hand. He sighed. How long were they going to be in this unbearable (to him) state - not quite hating but certainly not acting like husband-and-wife-to-be.

"Ah, Superintendent Pullman, DAC Strickland. Just the people I was looking for. I'd like a word, in my office, if that's not too much trouble."

Oh no.

* * *

"Please, take a seat," the commissioner began as they sat down. "I'd like to say sorry for my bluntness out in the corridor, but I'd rather keep this in a private setting."

"I see, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Strickland replied.

"Your...ahhh...relationship. You see, many people believe professional and personal should be kept apart. And, I'm afraid, it's upsetting rather a lot of important people, and I..."

"Is there any way we can help? Something we can do?" he asked.

_Ever the politician,_ she groaned internally. The commissioner and Strickland were immersed in conversation when she tuned back in and interrupted.

"You can't ship me off to another department, if that's what you're thinking," she said, defiance and stubbornness clear in her tone.

"Sandra, please-"

"No, no, it's alright Robert. Superintendent Pullman, you have to understand-"

"I don't have to understand _anything_," she snapped, and strode from the room.

* * *

A few minutes later, Strickland joined her out in the corridors, as furious as she had been the night before.

_Oh, look, we're taking it in turns now,_ she thought dryly.

"What did you think you were doing in there?" he asked her, his voice strained with anger. Sandra immediately decided on a sarcastic reaction - she wasn't really in the mood for a serious conversation.

"Well, I was sitting on a chair, and listening to you go on, and then-"

"Cut the crap, Sandra. We both know that's not what I was talking about," he growled, taking hold of her arm as she turned to walk away. She glared at him as they grew closer, however, the expression soon faded and her eyes drifted to his lips. Millimetres apart, alarm shot through Sandra, and bile rose to her throat; she pulled away, dashing for the toilet, leaving Strickland standing perplexed in the corridor.

"Ugh. Remind me to keep mouthwash handy next time," Sandra complained, while leant against the sink counter in the ladies' toilets. Her bag lay open beside the tap, and she eyed the packet she'd bought when her and Strickland had become...involved.

_No. I can't be. A baby would just make everything so much more complicated..._ one side of her panicked, while the other lectured her, _you don't even know yet, just test it..._

So she did - and ended up wishing her instincts weren't as correct as they were.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that went well. I've not seen any angry mobs, yet, so I presume I'm doing something right. :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I took a look at Chapter 4 and 5 of this fic and decided they were way too short. So I've stuffed them both into one chapter. Still the same text but these two chapters are compressed. :) A little warning for the language in this chapter, which I'm pretty sure the T rating covers. Unless I'm wrong (let me know as politely as possible if I am -_- ). I can't help but have a terribly feeling about this fic, even if it's not as bad as the feeling I got when I first wrote it, so a little reassurance wouldn't go amiss, guys. :D Thank you!**

* * *

She'd charged past Strickland on her way out - and God knows who else - regardless of their expressions, or opinions but that was how everyone thought she behaved, so why would it make a difference? The offending white-and-blue stick was stuffed in her bag, out of sight, thankfully (though, if she said it was out of mind, she was fooling herself). Driving her way home, red lights seemed to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Like the times when she just wanted to snap the wheel off and throw it at some unsuspecting cyclist. That wouldn't go down well. Eventually, she was home.

_And not a moment too soon..._ she thought dryly.

Her flat looked exactly the same as it had when she left - a mess. A half-drunk bottle of wine and a glass stood idly on the coffee table - which never seemed to have anything as mild as coffee on it. Then it struck her. Maybe she could...clear the table (in a way).

* * *

Robert Strickland sighed. It had been a long day, made even longer by Sandra's attitude and abrupt departure. His mind had been distracted, his work impaired. Had he _entirely_ told the truth when he swore to himself not to let their relationship affect his work? Shaking off the melancholy weight, he unlocked the front door of the flat. Well, if she didn't want him to be able to get in, she wouldn't have given him keys.

"I'm home!" he called, brow furrowing when he received no reply. "Sandra?" he heard steady breathing from the living room, and peered inside, cursing (which he'd been doing much more recently) when he saw her splayed out on the sofa, holding a limp, drunken grip on an empty bottle. A _wine_ bottle.

Strickland shook his head and gathered his courage to wake her - just as his mobile vibrated against his leg. Teeth gritted, he fished it out and took the call.

"Hello?"

"Robert? How are you? Listen, don't come into work tomorrow. That goes for both of you. There's an investigation into... Well, you can guess," and then the line went dead. Strickland sighed for the second time in five minutes and turned to Sandra. She'd be fine, wouldn't she? Convinced the answer was yes, he left, locking the door as he did.

* * *

The walk had been just what Strickland needed - even if he was frozen to the bone and rather lonely. What he didn't need was the shock that drove through his heart like a dagger as he approached the door. Or what was left of it. It hung from its hinges, swinging eerily in the wind. He picked up the detached handle and held it like you would a weapon. Against his ribs, his heart thudded. Was Sandra still in there (surely she hadn't done this)? What _had_ turned the place upside down? Strickland's throat tightened as he heard hushed voices and whimpers beneath the occasional creak of the floorboards. They became louder and more like groans of pain as he neared the doorway leading to the living room. Part of him was scared to peek. And the other half? Scared of what would happen if he didn't.

The figures in the room were instantly recognizable as he peered inside. Sandra, bound with her chin high and eyes furious, with an almost undetectable hint of fear. Her mother, Grace, who was also restrained by ropes, couldn't help but gaze at her daughter with concern, no matter the amount of hostility that stood between them. Strickland didn't truly understand the situation until he saw the third occupant. And that's when a slightly-personal-but-still-formal assessment by _DAC_ Strickland turned into a personal vendetta for _Robert_ Strickland - a man with a serious score to settle with John Felsham.

Mind rushing, he tried, and failed, to hold back from pacing the corridor. How was he out of prison? Why was he here?

_Don't be an idiot, Robert, you know-_

"Well, well, well, DAC Strickland," Felsham spat the words, as if they were more disgusting than a rotting corpse. "Come to collect you prize?"

"Prize?" was all Strickland could manage as he span on his heel to look at Felsham. Sandra's eyes moved from her captor to her lover, and she shook her head.

"Don't fall for it, Robert. Call the police-"

"Call the police?" Felsham snorted. "I think you're forgetting who you and your 'boyfriend' are. Besides, you call the police," he knelt down, pulled something heavy and black from his pocket, and pressed it to her head, "and she dies."

* * *

Somehow, Felsham had ended up being the only one with a weapon. Maybe it was because his was far superior than any other present, or that Strickland had dropped her makeshift handle-weapon when Sandra's life became a bargaining chip.

"You won't win," whispered the aforementioned Ms. Pullman. "You'll just go back to prison and rot, like the sad, old, pathetic-"

Slap!

"-stupid-"

Punch!

"-withering-"

Another punch!

"-bastard-"

Slam!

"-you are..." she finished, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, and pooling at her lips. Her face wore a delirious expression, but she seemed to be in no extreme pain. If it weren't for the splattered blood, no one would've guessed.

On the opposite side of the room, Strickland had seen enough. Felsham had made the mistake of not tying him up and he still had his mobile. He brought up the number he somehow trusted most for this occasion - Gerry. And then the text was away, carrying the situation away into hands far out of his reach, hands that, he hoped, were capable enough to save them before someone was in serious pain. Or worse, before someone died.

* * *

Police stormed the flat, however, there was considerably less door-breaking than usual seen as most were either open or torn from their hinges. At the first cry of 'Police!', Felsham was alert, glaring at the three of them.

"See now? Told you that you'd rot!" Sandra taunted him, smirking in an almost sickening way. Why was she doing it?

"_Shut UP_!" he yelled, shoving her into the wall. Her face contorted in pain and he grinned, knowing he wasn't the only one who knew the pain of a beating from someone stronger than him. Although, even the best things must come to an end. Armed, unidentifiable officers raced into the room, took Felsham by surprise, and seized his weapon. As several officers stood around him with one reading his rights, another signalled something towards the front door. A team of paramedics joined them, taking instructions from Grace. Strickland tried to get closer, but there was a solid (more or less) ring of ambulance crew around Sandra. Grace laid a hand on his arm.

"She'll be alright. The baby? I'm not so sure," she said. His eyes grew wide.

"B-baby?" he almost stuttered, almost half-hoping that his hearing was going. Grace simply laughed and smiled up at him.

"She must've forgot to mention it to you. Here, help me up," she stretched her hands and Strickland pulled her up, wondering whether he should stop trying to understand the women in the Pullman family.

* * *

**A/N: And the ordeal is over. Almost. I'll be posting the Epilogue soon. It's painfully small. Might need some expanding...**

**Anyway, thank you for reading! :) *hugs***


	5. Epilogue - Six Months Later

**A/N: And this is the Epilogue. After this, I won't be able to answer guest reviews unless you review on another piece that's currently in progress. :/ Anyway, I hope you like this.**

* * *

Robert Strickland stepped onto the stage before the gather at the second interesting Police he'd been to since he started his career. And that was a _long_ time ago. As the speaker told of his 'bravery in the face of criminals' and 'selflessness', his eyes surveyed the crowd. Nervous officers, uptight officers, proud officers, and bored-out-of-their-mind officers. None of those mattered at that moment in time - except one. She sat in the centre section of the table arrangement, fourth table from the left, second row from the front, platinum-blonde hair shining the artificial light. Her dress was slightly less clingy than usual: it was kind of a requirement for being two months pregnant and trying to look like you still had a mostly normal figure. Regardless, she was practically an angel to him. An angel that, six months ago, had been through a lot. That why she was two months pregnant and not six. Because the man he was 'so brave' as to fight had caused her miscarriage. He was partly glad he knew the prison officers currently responsible for him.

All things considered, they'd put it behind them. Sandra had somehow come to a miraculous truce with her mother, and they were now having regular _girl _conversations. It was a little unnerving, in his opinion. As a plus, the investigation had been dropped, and they were accepted by 'the community' now. Sure, people could still whisper of scandal and repulsiveness, but it didn't faze them. They were happier than they'd ever been - alone or together.

_I guess, the world isn't all about being Judgemental, hmm?_

* * *

**A/N: And...cut! :P That's it, people. I'm done posting chapters. This was a short Epilogue and I feel, now, that I need to add something extra to what I wrote. So I'm going to come up with a one-shot when I've finished something I'm doing in another fandom. Look out for it on my profile - it'll say something about being a sequel or related to this. :) Thanks for reading the fic!**

**EDIT [28/05/2013]: Here's the one-shot! s/9335729/1/Baby-Blues**


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